This post was a draft that was sitting in my blog-inbox from June. There are others (less revealing than this one!) but, I wanted to share this one with the internet world. Feel free to add your feelings, thoughts.

I was stuck in traffic yesterday. And I pondered my depravity; how jacked up I am on the inside (oh, come on, don't be so hard on yourself). No, seriously, left to myself, alone, my life will be a mess.

Over the course of life, I learn things here and there. Little tidbits that are huge revelations for a life lived in God's wake and will. They look like mountains. They are exciting pieces of Him that I enjoy learning more and more about, the mountains grow and grow...

And then there's those little, immature parts of me that don't seem to come along very well. The brush is overgrown, weeds are sprouting in these areas. These things that puzzle me, I can't get around or through. These are the valleys...

Being at a small house of prayer is great. Difficult, with unique challenges. There is a neat culture about this little room, though.

Most that have heard of the "House of Prayer" know the large house of prayer in Kansas City. 24-7 for 11+ years, live web stream on computers and handheld devices - often I hear it referred to as the "mothership." And, it really is a mother-ship - it gives birth to a vision of prayer at all times - long hours of intercession and engaging with the God in conversation, "contending for cities to come to know the truth."

For a full-timer, I find the messages coming from the mother encouraging, even from 500 miles away.

I know right now I am called to the city of Cincinnati. A friend currently at IHOP knows they are called to their hometown, too. They shall return to their city after their time of training, and settle into their Outpost.

That's what I heard these little houses of prayer called a couple weeks back. Whe…